Baldur's Gate: Gorian's Tale
by OneBiscuitShort
Summary: Before the tale of the Bhaalspawn, there is another tale to tell. One laden with secrets and mystery, one never told during the adventure. How did Gorian become the father of the Bhaalspawn child?
1. Alianna

**Rating: -** PG

**Disclaimer: -**If this were all mine, I'd seriously wonder about my arrogance problem. Anyway, it's not and I'm a nice person.

**Spoilers: -**Err…Baldur's Gate 1 and possibly 2.

**Story Summary: -** What can I say? This is the beginning of what I hope (pray and wish) will be a long piece of fan fiction. Not tremendously long that'll take me up to next Christmas but long enough to keep the readers interested. I can't say that the story is entirely my own and take the credit for it. No, this is the product of a debate I had with a friend of mine some months ago. We were debating whom Alianna, or the PC's mother actually was and what kind of character we would put to her. We developed all sorts of wacky ideas covering her personality to what drove her to become a Priestess of Bhaal. As the debate grew, so did my desire to write about it, or at least write the versions of what I feel went on during that time. Hey, I'm not saying this is right and I'm not saying this is what Black Isle had in mind when this was created but this is my version of things.

**Author Note: - **I can't believe that I wrote this…to this very day I can't believe that I wrote this…It's scary to know what comes out of my mind sometimes. When I first started out with this, I didn't know what I was getting myself into. I thought, "Great! Another one-shot fic and that'll be it!"…. Three chapters later and I was beginning to doubt my thought. As it grew, the story, which I wanted to develop, got deeper than I thought it would. I started imagining characters of my own and formulating a means of including them in the web Black Isle created. I wanted to delve deeper into the thoughts and feelings of a younger Gorian and find out what actually made him choose the child that he did. Hopefully, once I've finished the exploits in this short story there will be a follow up. This isn't exactly a story per-say…more like a Prologue to a bigger entanglement.

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**_Genesis _**

**_The Prologue - How It All Began_**

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Gorian slipped away from the bed. He had seen that far away look in Alianna's sleeping face before and could not bear to see it again. Instead of staying beside her, he walked over to the dark window and peered out of the glass that was the only barrier between him and the outside cold wind. The winds had picked up sharply since Alianna had returned from her visitation in the Southland's. Where had she been? She didn't like to answer when he asked, so he never asked any more. He pressed his hand against the glass and watched his breath form an icy shield and misty outline on the glass pane. Slowly, with his forefinger, he drew a line in the mist and placed a dot on either side of the line. Two dots separated by a line that ran between them, between two worlds. He knew that unconsciously, the line was the separation between Alianna and himself. They were so different, what had brought them together?

Taking a deep breath, Gorian rubbed out the mist and the picture with the sleeve of his shirt, feeling the material grow wet form the condensation. Now that the window was clear, he could see through it and down into the streets of Baldur's Gate. Even in the early hours of the morning, or the late hours of the night, the city still bustled with a life that was neither alive nor dead. He watched the people who walked from one end of the street to the next, their heads bowed, their minds elsewhere than the dank city, the capital pride of the Sword Coast. Their pride lost within the denizens of their workplace, shrouded in mystery from the world that bustled outside the city gates. There was no other place than Baldur's Gate, city of cities and home of the workman.

"I've seen that look before," Alianna's tender voice travelled from their bed.

Gorian looked over at Alianna, watching the way that she lay, propping her head up with one arm on the pillow and covering her naked self with the quilt that had only fell to her waist as she slept.

"I have a lot to…think about," Gorian replied slowly, turning away from her and back to the cold window.

There was a rustle from the bed as Alianna stood, wrapping the quilt around her Elven body and walking over to her lover, touching his shoulder comfortingly. Even then, his eyes did not look into hers, he only stared out of the window pane, looking forlorn and tired, even at his young age; he looked like an old and tired wise man cast out from his home in the high top trees of an Elven Temple.

"Gorian," Alianna began, "Please, come back to bed."

Gorian shook his handsome head; "I cannot sleep beside you."

Alianna felt hurt by this, "You cannot sleep beside me? Why?"

"The look on your face," Gorian replied, "You're never here with me, you're always some place else."

Alianna breathed out a short laugh, "Gorian, I love you. Why wouldn't I want to be here with you?"

She took his hand in hers and kissed his knuckles several times, "I'm sorry if I've been distant."

"It's…" Gorian sighed, "It's not just that. You're hiding something from me."

Alianna smiled warmly, "I thought it'd take you months to figure out."

Gorian looked at his love and raised an eyebrow, "I don't understand."

Taking his hand, Alianna placed it on her stomach and with her other hand, she softly caressed his nape at the back of his neck, tracing the outline of his hair with her fingertips.

"This is our child," Alianna said as Gorian moved his fingertips across her bare stomach, "This is the product of our love, Gorian. This is what I have been hiding."

Gorian couldn't help the small smile that came to his face. He was a father…he had a child. Between them they had a child. Maybe a boy or a girl, oh it didn't what sex it was as long as it was healthy and could…well maybe it could do magic, follow in it's father's footsteps perhaps, want to learn about the old ways just as he and his father did.

"We…we have a child?" Gorian asked, as if trying to establish the fact himself. "I-I'm a father? A parent?"

Alianna grinned, showing her perfect white glistening teeth and kissed Gorian slowly, "Yes, we are finally parents."

Gorian grinned again, a full-fledged grin that spanned from ear to ear. He gathered Alianna in his arms and lifted her off the ground, twirling her around the room, dancing as he would on light air, dancing as though he could stand on the water of the great oceans. He laughed, he smiled and everything seemed right again. Alianna laughed right along side him, rejoicing in their child's promises.

"We're going to have to move," Gorian said once he had set Alianna firmly back on her feet. "We must move into the country, maybe buy some land. We shouldn't be too far out in case we need anything for the birth so something in the Cloakwood would do nicely."

Alianna laughed, "It's a bit early, my love, but it is a nice thought isn't it? We are to be parents, you a father and I…a mother."

"This…this is sublime," Gorian replied, "Do we know? Which it is?"

Alianna shook her head, "No, I prefer not to know. I'd rather…wait and be surprised, wouldn't you? I mean, if we know it's one or the other, it could spoil it all."

"I know, I know," Gorian grinned, "At last, I'm going to be a father. I shall have to inform Jaheira and Khalid, perhaps Khelben and Elminster."

"No!" Alianna said quickly, "I'd rather that the news would keep between us…for now I mean. It's nice to know that it is _our_ child, just for a while."

"I know what you mean," Gorian replied, "Yes, I agree. Let us keep the secret."

"I would like that," Alianna smiled, biting her bottom lip, showing her white teeth again.

Gorian hugged her close to him, breathing in the air that surrounded them both. The air of the three of them, together as a family. For some reason, he felt…unsure somehow. It was a thrilling feeling to be part of a family once again, to be together like this, to finally be a father to their child, but something felt off about the whole thing. He didn't want to believe it, that something could be wrong but he smiled and held it all in. Maybe he was just afraid of becoming what he'd always wanted to be, or maybe it was just the news of it all during an unsettling time.

"I think we should get back to bed," Alianna suggested, taking Gorian's hand and moving slowly and seductively towards their bed.

"Would you mind some company?" Gorian asked, moving to her as she lay down and propping himself over her on his elbows, keeping his weight off her as he lay on top of her radiating body.

"Not at all, my love," Alianna smiled again before claiming Gorian's lips with her own.

His dreams were peaceful that night, stored away from the night's harsh mistress and kept hidden from his own mind as he slept, thinking about the child that lay in his lover's belly, waiting and growing, getting ready to be birthed again into the world of reincarnation. It was near dawn when Alianna had shook him awake. She had complained of a stomach-ache and Gorian had laughed, saying that it was normal for women to experience such pain while with child. Nevertheless, she had pushed Gorian out of bed and swore that she wouldn't let him back in until he used his mage powers to make the pain better. Gorian, with much reluctance, went downstairs and stirred some liquid of his into some rose petal porridge, heated it then took it up to his lady love, handing it too her then climbing into bed.

"How was your sleep?" Alianna asked, spooning the pink porridge into her mouth.

Gorian turned onto the flat of his back and sighed, "Peaceful."

"I'm glad," Alianna replied, offering him some porridge but he declined.

"I had new visions to keep them at bay," Gorian said, moving his hand across Alianna's belly.

"I think I can guess what they were," Alianna chuckled, "What did you dream? Playing catch the fireball with your son or writing down scriptures with your daughter?"

Gorian shook his head, "Neither. I was simply thinking about how our lives will change once the child's born. We're both going to have to commit as much as possible, it means I have to stop travelling all over Faerun."

"It does," Alianna said, "I'll have to stop wrestling with Trolls on a daily basis and start eating food instead of nails."

Gorian laughed, "Must you make fun of me so?"

"If it makes me smile…" Alianna said, leaning across to him and kissing him lightly on his lips, "Then it's very good. You'll see in a few months, I won't smile in the slightest. The joys of being pregnant will get to me."

"Then poke fun all you wish," Gorian said, closing his eyes slowly.

He had barely begun to start breathing slowly and he could feel himself falling asleep when Alianna's voice came through to his ears once again.

"Gorian?" she asked carefully.

"Hmm?" Gorian replied, feeling sleep taking him slowly but steadily even as he spoke.

"I love you," she said, tracing a fingertip down the side of his face, "Please remember that, no matter what happens."

"I will," Gorian replied, taking hold of her hand and holding it close to his beating heart, "And I love you."

Alianna waited until she could hear Gorian's quiet breathing, she watched his chest rise and fall slowly with each breath as he slept, untold dreams lay waiting for him in his slumber, dreams that haunted him like a shadowed man.

Alianna softly caressed her growing belly where her child grew. She felt the small babe kick from her womb, kicking out, flexing his God-like muscles already. Two months old, seven months to grow and become strong within her belly then he would be released from her and be born into the clutches of the Lord of Murder. He would live no longer than a week. She knew and had appreciated the gift that Bhaal was giving to his priestess…the chance to birth one of his many children, the chance to excel herself as his servant. Bhaal would surely grant her favour after this, like he would with all mothers of his spawn.

But the child that she carried would surpass them all. He wouldn't grow, he would be the youngest of all his siblings but he would be the most powerful. No other Bhaalspawn would be able to rival her babe's strength. This, Alianna knew. When Bhaal had come to her as a man and impregnated her with his seed, he had reassured her that this child would be his equal from birth. This child would be the one to accept the throne of his kingdom, raise his dead father in spirit, causing chaos across the Realms for many centuries to come. She hadn't thought of a name yet. She knew that it would be a boy born, but a name was something that she hadn't even considered until now. She had friends who said that choosing a name for the child was becoming to close to the baby, developing an intimacy that would be her downfall. But there she sat, in her home on the Sword Coast, thinking about a name for her sacrificial child that lay in wait in her womb, lay waiting to be born under the name of Bhaal.

How could she sleep now? All the thoughts that ran freely through her head mingled with the thoughts of her child. She closed her eyes and felt a tear drop slowly cascade down her cheek. She couldn't sob; sobbing would wake Gorian and alert him to her. He would worry and she didn't want that. He had enough to worry about; he didn't need another thing to be heaped onto the already huge pile of issues.

Softly, she turned onto her side, placing the porridge dish on the bedside table and tried to sleep before the late dawn morning arrived.

_Running through a centre, passing the Great Oak Tree on the left but he keeps running. Down the narrow corridors, white and pale with their paint glistening on all side of the wet walls, running through the white corridors and down, down into the depths of the temple. Further, he could keep going further and further, down and down, until he hit the centre of the Earth, the core in the depths but instead, he stops._

_At the foot of the doors, he stops and looks around. Watching all that goes on around him, people floating in and out of this door, not noticing his presence. A man presides over it all, on a high stool with a large book, ticking and crossing off names that enter and exit. He feels compelled to talk to the man but instead, watches the people pass inward and outbound through the large door._

_He goes to the door and touches it, feels the white metal glistening beneath his trembling fingers and sli8des a finger into all the carvings that appear slowly. Words, words and letters and numbers carved out on the mass of wood, slowly and surely forming sentences, proverbs, clauses, prophecies, songs, verses, choruses._

_He tries to push the door but it doesn't budge. He tries to read the writing but it is no language that he has ever seen before. He tries to hit the door but rebounds off. He tries finally to run at the door but again, it will not move. The handle turns on the door and another person passes through, glancing once at him then moving toward the exit, the long corridor where he came down. He tries something new and tries to open the handle, he turns the knob slowly but it is locked so he forgets that._

_He runs his finger round each of the carvings, trying to feel for words and letters that he understands, but nothing. All is meaningless to him, but still, he feels compelled to go inside, to feel what is inside this amazing world on the inner sanctum. What was inside? What secrets did it hold?_

_A large hand grasped at his clothing, a hand that was coming through the door, pulling him forward through the wooden door with such force. He'd never make it! The wooden door would flatten against him. Suddenly, the wooden door was falling, falling from it's invisible hinges, down onto him, collapsing onto his body, flattening him onto the ground but the large hand kept pulling even as the door started to fall…_

Gorian flailed his hands out into the light. He opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light in the bedroom. It was early morning. He was all right, he wasn't dead…he was fine. He breathed easier and fell flat onto his back. The space next to him was empty; Alianna was already up. He looked up at the ceiling and tried to remember the dream. Strange that a door and a hand would come into it. He'd never dreamt of that before. The carvings had always been there, in all his dreams they were the same carvings. A language, an alphabet, writing in a God Like language that he didn't understand or could define.

If he knew the name of the language he could ask a priest or something but nothing ever came from the dream. The carvings would be there tomorrow night, but the language, the indecipherable language would remain the same. Locked away inside his mind, in the safe box that held everything he'd ever thought of. He covered his eyes with his forearm and tried to envision the carvings on the door again, on the objects that they'd always been present on. A door, a tree, the ground, a rock, a person… all strange objects. He'd seen the carvings before, he knew he had. They were familiar, not just from his dreams but from somewhere else. He'd seen them in life, carved somewhere, tattooed on someone, written on something…he knew that he had.

Throwing back the warm covers, Gorian stepped out of bed and slipped his feet into his leather lace sandals. He covered himself in the robe that hung form the bedpost and proceeded to walk down the wooden staircase of the house and into the living area.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he flattened himself against the wall and listened carefully. Someone was speaking at the doorway, two voices; one Alianna's sweet tone and the other were unfamiliar. He listened intently; trying not to make a sound as he slowly crept down the stairs, his back still against the wall, to his front was the railing of the staircase.

"We can provide for you," the unfamiliar voice said, a silky snake like tone that seemed as if it would hiss at any moment, "We are your family, Alianna."

"No, Cyrinol," Alianna replied, "I will not go back there until I'm ready."

There was a sigh, "Why do you stay here? Is it because of him?" Cyrinol asked.

Alianna shushed him; "He's upstairs so speak quietly. I don't know if he's awake or not."

"Answer my question," Cyrinol demanded, his voice hushed but still holding the same menacing tone as before. "Is it because of Gorian?"

"Yes," Alianna replied in a sigh, "It's because of him."

"No mortal ties," Cyrinol recited, "That was what you said, no mortal ties. No intimacies. You're falling in a trap, Alianna. Realise it…before it's too late."

The door slammed shut. Gorian could hear Alianna's stifled sobs coming from the hallway; he heard her body slump against the door. Part of him wanted to run back upstairs, the frightened little child that always remained even as you grow old, but the part that presided was his conscience. It told him to go to her, so he did. Carefully, he walked down the remaining stairs to the hallway. Alianna looked up from her lap as he entered. She had her knees drawn up to her chest and was sobbing into her lap. She tried to draw back all the tears before Gorian could see them but she failed. Gorian moved slowly towards her then knelt down beside her. He wrapped his arms around her trembling body and let her nestle her face into the crook of his neck.

"Calm yourself," he said quietly, "What in the world's wrong?"

Alianna shook her head; "It doesn't matter. Just some…old ghosts you could say."

"Skeletons in your closet?" Gorian joked, feeling Alianna slump against his as he held her.

Alianna chuckled a little through watery eyes, "Not so much skeletons as fully fledged people."

She sobbed again, the sob racking her body into a fit of spasms. Teardrops flowed down her cheeks and cascaded onto Gorian's robe.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry."

"What for?" Gorian asked, pulling back slightly and looking at his love, "What on Earth could you be sorry for?"

Alianna's gaze dropped to the floorboards for a moment, "For…everything."

"Everything?" Gorian said, "Alianna, everything you've given me is all I could ever ask for. You really don't know how much you mean to me, do you?"

"No, I know only too well," she replied, "It's everything you mean to me and more. I shall have to leave soon, for the South, you know that, don't you?"

Gorian nodded ruefully, "Yes, I am aware of it. But why? Why so far?"

"Why so far south?" Alianna asked, raising her eyes to meet his, "It's…I guess it's like a pilgrimage…before the birth of my child. One that I must do alone and one that I cannot avoid. To avoid it…means to cast off the ways of my beliefs."

"I thought you did cast off your beliefs?" Gorian asked, "I thought you gave it all up when you came to live here?"

Alianna shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye, "I would no sooner give up on them than I would on you. I'd never ask you to give up your promise to the Harpers, so I don't expect me to give up mine."

"Oh," Gorian replied weakly, "You would not refuse them? Just as I would not refuse my own? What drives you forward in this? Your people gave up on you a long time ago, give up on them, on their Gods. You have…the world to see."

Alianna laughed, "You are asking me to follow a world of…traipsing monkeys? In this rotten time, I turn to my Gods. I'd rather you didn't say such things, my love. Do I ask you to forbid the mention of Sune? Of Silvanus?"

"Why a pilgrimage though? And where is it too, exactly?" Gorian questioned, furrowing his brow.

"Far in the South," Alianna replied, moving away from his arms, "There are no Harper Holds down that end so…Gorian, I'm not trying to threaten you, but I really need to do this alone, so please don't follow me."

Gorian sighed, defeated, "I only want to protect you, Alianna. There are many who would…commit unspeakable things to…to you."

"I know," Alianna replied, tracing her finger around his ear, "It's hard, for both of us."

It would be another moon before she would leave, another turn of the tide, another week or two then she would go, away from his arms and the bed in which they slept together. In the mornings, she would wake and see his tired eyes watching her from his sleep, waking from a pleasant dream only to realise the reality that was right before his eyes.

She was leaving him, and didn't know when she would be back.

They had talked and talked over the matter, yelled even, shouted, said something's that they both regretted but…in the long run it would all help him to get over her, should she never return to him.

Was she being selfish? Was she too cruel on him? Was the threat of Bhaal's child growing within her womb too much for her to bear? Thoughts raced around her mind as she tried to think of a hundred ways to stay, to stay safe and protected in Gorian's arms, away from the world, in a place that only they knew about.

But she knew that it wasn't to be. If it had been, if she meant for Gorian's love, then the fates wouldn't be tearing them apart. It was easier to believe that they weren't destined for one another than believe that it was her own choice, that she had free will.

Cyrinol had been back. He'd stayed over in Baldur's Gate, thinking of ways to bring her back with him, back to the temple in the South. She has found her reasons not to leave so soon. She had wanted to stay until the last remaining days, until she couldn't any longer and had to leave before the baby was born. Cyrinol had insisted that she follow him back but she has resisted him, blatantly told him that it wasn't her time, it wasn't time for her to go.

He had remained his usual self, calm and collected. He looked upon her as if she were one of his many concubines, an object not a person. His withering look shook her from inside, his dark grey eyes which were evil in their own right, so childish it was, to be afraid of his eyes but they frightened her truthfully. She wanted to run away from the door and find Gorian asleep in his bed, become safe and protected within hi strong arms, look into his eyes and see the world she had never seen in Cyrinol's.

"Be strong," she whispered to herself, looking out over the moon that shone from up high in the night's sky.

A strong feeling whipped around her face, streaming through her dark eyes and into her tainted soul. It was the calling from the others, the call of Bhaal from the South. They were tempting her, bringing her to the edge of insanity. Her blood pumped around her body, she was aware of everything around her on the windowsill where she sat. She could hear horses hooves moving swiftly down the narrow city passages and the hoot of an owl that flew past, blowing a thick breeze through her dark hair.

She drew one last breath then moved away from the windowsill. They couldn't take her that easily.

Days dragged on like decades, minutes like years. Gorian hadn't spoken a word to her in the last two days and had stayed away from her company as much as he could. He wouldn't be there in the evenings and wouldn't stay in her bed in the nights. She knew that he was expecting her to leave in the night, for him to wake up and find a blank bed beside him. She knew him too well.

It was three days now, three days and she would leave for the South. Three days to go, three days left with him. It wasn't fair to call her time 'with him' because he stayed away, making as little contact with her as possible. When he had come in the evenings, she smelt the Harper smoke on him, the tobacco that his friend liked to smoke. He'd said that he was with the Harpers, praying for her safe passage across the lands.

One night, however, as she was lying in bed, there was a clatter from downstairs.

She didn't think twice about leaping to her feet and rushing to her love's rescue, by whatever might be causing the fateful crash. She raced down the stairs and into the living room to find Gorian looking solemn and holding a piece of parchment in his shaking hands.

He heard her coming and whirled around, sending his clack flying behind him.

"What was the crash?" Alianna asked, moving over to Gorian.

He pointed to the window, the broken window with the shards of glass lying on the floor beneath the windowpane. A rock lay at Gorian's feet with a piece of long string beside it, cut with a knife for it was frayed.

"They've…found something in the south," Gorian whispered, holding the parchment out to her. She took it and read it through. "They've found a temple."

Alianna watched Gorian's eyes look over her with an air of superiority that she had never felt before from him. He watched her read it, a dark twinkle in his usually bright eyes.

"If you can call it a temple," he said, adding a small black laugh at the end, "A desecrated Church of Helm. Elminster thinks it's inhabited, Khelben thinks otherwise. They're debating on what to do."

"What do you mean?" Alianna asked, slightly breathless but she composed herself as the letter dropped from her fingertips onto the floorboards. Gorian didn't notice.

Gorian sighed, "They're calling for you, Alianna."

She gasped. He turned to face her, his face dark, his eyes even darker. The superior air about him was not the latter but disgust; deep and resentful growing inside of his breast.

"They're…" Alianna tried but her throat was closing up, she could barely breathe.

"They're calling for you," He repeated, turning from her and picking up the fallen parchment, folding it neatly and placed it on the small table, placing a paperweight on top. "You better answer them."

Tears were filling in her eyes, deep and sorrowful tears that cascaded down her cheeks. Her stomach hurt; the grown stomach full of a bonny child that wouldn't live much longer. Her chest ached, the thought of Gorian behaving this way toward her so…distant. So unlike her lover.

"Gorian…" she pleaded, falling to her knees before the man she loved, grasping at his robes, "Please, forgive me, please…"

Gorian lifted her to her feet and smiled a distant smile that just hurt even more to see, "Stop, Alianna. Just go, before…"

His gaze fell to the floor; the vulnerable Gorian she knew so well was hiding itself behind the stern exterior of the sage. He closed his eyes, trying to think of happy thoughts instead of the final reality of the world. His fate intertwined with his lover's, a dark fate intertwined with a dark destiny of a dark child.

"Please, just go," he whispered into her dark hair.

"Gorian, listen to me, please," she pleaded to his last ounce of vulnerability.

His gaze rose up once more, challenging her to stay, rising to her glistening eyes and defeating her hope of redemption in his mind. She was gone, like a passing season or a drum of wind. She was lost to him and she could never be found.

It was in that moment that his vulnerability shattered before her eyes and standing before her was a new man, a changed man, a man with a broken heart, broken hopes and broken dreams.

"Go," he said finally.

The horse tormented her with ever gallop of its hooves. Every mile it ran it ran faster each one, pacing her, testing her, taking her further away.

Alianna smiled a sad smile to the passing wind, to let it carry away the smile to some faraway place where another lost love would be sharing their smiles with a passing breeze. She took the small bottle from her belt and looked at the green liquid swirling around in the glass vial. A potion that she had picked up months ago, when she was travelling with a band of gypsies down the ribbon of Faerun's roads.

An alignment change potion.

A potion, she was told, that would change her thoughts forever. No more would she be a snivelling elf of light, a cast off from the elves she once called family. She would be beautiful in the eyes of the dark Gods once more, an instrument of terror to the people.

Such thoughts scared her. A potion that could change her personality, a potion that could change her forever. For a slight second, thoughts of Gorian filled her head, thoughts of him rejecting the new and powerful Alianna. He wouldn't want her after an alignment change. He loved her for being herself and not a priestess of Bhaal.

But it was too late for that, and in one fateful swoop, she drank the vial dry, licking her lips for the after taste of a sweet liquid.

A slight smile played upon her lips as the horse spurred on.


	2. Breaching A Wall

**_Author Note: _To come first is my apology for staying away so long. Things have been slightly more than hectic in my life but i'm back writing more and this is one of the products of my work. Hope you enjoy it.**

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_**Chapter 2: Breaching A Wall**_

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The wind over Faerun had changed. Jaheira felt it blowing in multiple directions. Why such a change at this time of year? Why was the autumn wind shifting in strange ways? She stopped and held a wet finger aloft in the blowing breeze and felt all sides of her finger dry at once. Strange.

Khalid sensed his friend's displacement and questioned her, "W-What is the matter, J-Jaheira?"

Jaheira sighed once but turned and smiled, "Nothing. I thought I felt something odd about the wind, it was probably just my imagination."

Khalid smiled, "D-Do your instincts speak d-differently?"

"Not right now," Jaheira replied, picking up her pack that lay on the uneven ground and hoisting it onto her back, readying herself for the trek uphill to Baldur's Gate.

Both of them tired of this same route. The long journeys from the north to the south were always straining and sometimes, it was nearly impossible to find a cart man that took the roads that they used. The old dirt tracks were worn down with potholes, dangers to travellers on old wooden carts. Jaheira had contemplated hiring horses but she didn't know when they would be back in the north. It may be a few days, maybe a few months. With Gorian and his tariffs, no one knew a thing.

Wanting to bypass the Troll Hills, they'd taken the side-track and reached the Trade Road by noon that day. Already, Jaheira was tired and restless. She knew that by reaching The Fields of the Dead, they'd be half way there already but it was a treacherous way and crossing through the waters in the Fields meant death to all those who travelled through the muddy plains.

"A bit r-repetitive, isn't it?" Khalid asked.

Jaheira looked at her companion. It was the first time he'd made idle conversation in a while, since they'd left The Burlag Grove Inn, north of the Forrest. Khalid hardly spoke, he seemed very displaced when around her and always stuttered, but that came with everyone.

"A bit repetitive?" Jaheira murmured to herself before saying "I've travelled this track time and time again to find that it hasn't changed."

"Where are we a-actually g-g-going?" Khalid asked, "We are heading south, but where too?"

Jaheira raised an eyebrow, "I am surprised that no one has mentioned it too you."

Khalid shrugged, "I'm a f-fighter, Jaheira. I'm second c-class to the more important p-people."

"Don't let anyone tell you that," Jaheira laughed, "No one is better than anyone else. We're all the same in some way or another."

The ford pass was coming up, Jaheira could see it already; the old clapped out bridge with the warning sign written in Elfish, instead of the common tongue. Jaheira spoke little of the elfish tongue, even though her upbringing was not mostly common. She still preferred to not distinguish herself from the human world and had learned both languages from birth. However, as usual, one had presided and that was the common tongue, her mother tongue that had remained forever present in her mouth.

"Baldur's Gate," Jaheira informed Khalid as they walked up to the ford pass, "We are headed there for Gorian and then on to Beregost and the village Lubrylla in the Forests."

"Oh," Khalid replied feebly, "I had no idea that we would be travelling so far south."

Jaheira shrugged, "We could go much farther, if we wished too. There is much unrest in the southern towns, much distress that could use our help."

"A-Aren't you supposed to p-preserve the balance?" Khalid asked, "Y-You satisfy o-one city and it's n-needs then leave t-the next?"

Jaheira shook her head, sending a spray of hair around her face, "If that is what you think, then you do not understand the need for balance in the world."

"I d-don't think I d-do," Khalid replied, going silent at his last word.

Jaheira could tell that he didn't want to speak about this anymore. She knew, from previous experience, that Khalid was a man who, unlike other fighters, was afraid of his own shadow. If Jaheira wanted to frighten her friend, she had to raise a fist to him and he would be cowering. It was cruel of her to think in such a way but she knew Khalid, she knew that he was a good man and good friend to have beside you in times of trouble. He could fight like all others she knew and when needed, could offer good consolation. He could banter with the best, and tell good jokes that could have a comical bard falling off his stool.

She liked Khalid. There was something about him, maybe she didn't make her thoughts clear but there was something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. He intrigued her.

She looked to her side to see him walking; carefully looking down at the floor for any potholes that could make him fall over. He drove the staff into the ground and hauled himself up the hill with manly grace. His face was formed in such a way that when he sniffed up the cold he had, his eyes closed as his high cheekbones met his lower eyelids. His face was long and comforting, his eyes betrayed his youth, and Jaheira had heard that Khalid had seen a lot in his life. A lot more than he had let anyone know or even realise. Yes, she liked him and could see many things carved into the future for the both of them, depending on the choices they may take in the future. They were already old friends, from many years ago, companions by other companions that have lost their lives on the road that they all travel.

"W-W-We are at the f-ford!" Khalid exclaimed. He noticed the board, which Jaheira knew, would be there and went over to take a closer look.

"'Travellers Beware'," Khalid read the sign and read it aloud to Jaheira as she came nearer, "'The Route Is Harsh And Battles Will Be Fought. Be Armed At Your Discretion.'"

"Hmm," Jaheira said, "Is that what it reads? I thought it was an advertisement from elfish wine or some sort."

Khalid looked puzzled for a moment, "C-Can you not r-read this?"

Jaheira shook her head; "The tongue was never my strong point. My tutor said I lacked the proper sharpness that my half-nature gave me."

"M-Maybe he meant y-your tone is t-t-too harsh," Khalid joked, laughing a little at his innocent jab.

"Maybe," Jaheira replied paying no more attention to the sign and moving forward, across the stone bridge.

Khalid followed her across the stone bridge, taking a moment to look over the edge and into the water down below. It rippled as the slight rain began to bounce down from the heavens. The raindrops bounced harmlessly off the well-worn stone bridge and flowed with the ford, flowing down stream to the mouth and out into the open sea.

"Nature at its peace," Jaheira said, watching the rain come down. "Seems so tranquil, no?"

"I a-agree," Khalid smiled, "'Tis a w-w-wonder to behold w-when we get the c-chance."

"And yet there are those who would sacrifice all this for gold in their pockets," Jaheira said mournfully.

"Then we are h-here to s-stop them," Khalid chuckled.

Jaheira felt a small smile appear on her face, "Indeed."

It was a matter of time before they arrived at the city gates and would be stopped, searched for illegal materials them proceeded through by a procession of equipped guards, all ready to stab a sword in your back the minute you thought of murdering someone. Jaheira admired the strong hand that the Red Fist showed when running all operations in Baldur's Gate. The Iron Throne was not a well-mannered society, it didn't have the special qualities that it once held, owning the majority of the Sword Coast's trade and only wanting the whole lot.

"Where are Elminster and K-K-Khelben these days?" Khalid asked as they walked, his feet clomping on the ground as his armour shook. "I haven't h-heard from e-either of them for a while."

Jaheira shrugged, "No one is quite sure. The Higher Harpers have heard from them, letters and runners I suppose, but nothing to us or even Gorian."

"I w-would have thought that G-Gorian would be contacted," Khalid stated, thoughtfully.

"So would I," Jaheira replied, "Before they left, they mentioned something about the south and Cyric. Then they left days later, not another word to anyone."

"C-C-Cyric?" Khalid asked, almost distressed, "Cyric, the Lord of Murder?"

"You sound almost frightened, dear," Jaheira laughed, "The Lord of Murder isn't going to reign down on us anytime soon."

Khalid shook, "B-But how can you be so s-s-sure?"

Jaheira shrugged, "I can't."

**__**

**__**

**__**

Once they were clear of the Winding Water, Jaheira signalled to Khalid to stop for a moment while they catch their breath and have a moment to relax. They had walked over ten miles clear in three hours. Judging at that speed, they would arrive in Baldur's Gate just in time for the weekend festival and hopefully, a large glass of decent beer. It had been a long time since she'd had a good drink and walking all this way really meant she deserved it.

Khalid put his pack on the floor and sat on a nearby milestone.

"Two miles to g-go," Khalid said, opening his canister and drinking water before passing it to Jaheira.

"Two miles and then a good night's sleep," Jaheira concluded, swigging from the canister, "Let us hope that Gorian is in good spirits when we arrive."

"Or he'll c-conjuror our h-heads off?" Khalid laughed, "At least we g-get to pay a visit to Alianna n-now."

"Hmm," Jaheira mumbled, making a noise that meant disapproval.

Khalid raised an unsure eyebrow, "You don't l-like her?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, "Something is…odd about her. She's half-elven from a very wealthy family in the high ups of the Eleven Court at Ashabenford, yet she gives it all up to be with one mortal man in a rotting city."

"It just s-shows the b-boundaries of love," Khalid said, picking his pack up, "Don't you b-believe in love?"

Jaheira nodded, "Yes, but Alianna…she's not whom I envisioned Gorian to be with."

"Who d-did you think he would be w-with?" Khalid asked, "Moronanya? J-Jalessryl?"

"All scholars with their heads in the clouds," Jaheira replied, "No, I expected him to be a bit wiser about his choice in a woman."

Khalid looked stern for a moment and then a slight hint of laughter appeared on his face, "Did you e-ever wish that he h-had chosen you?"

Jaheira laughed, "Not for a moment. Gorian and I, we go back a long time. We are good friends, nothing more can ever come out of that."

"I'm sure that w-whomever marries you, J-Jaheira," Khalid said, "He will be t-the luckiest man in the Realms."

Jaheira felt her cheeks blush slightly, unbecoming of herself but her stern exterior rose up off the stone on which she sat and picked up her bag once again. She flashed a slight grin at Khalid who grinned back earnestly. With a slight hint of a spring in her step, Jaheira motioned to the map and to the south, across the fields and slightly to the East.

With a steady hand, not wavering once, Jaheira looked over at Khalid and with a smile on her lips, took his hand in hers and let their clasped hands with interlocking fingers sway together as they walked. Something's must change for the benefit of old friends.

**__**

Night descended upon the city quickly as Jaheira and Khalid walked through the gates. Just as Jaheira had predicted, no sooner had they stepped through the stones that separated Baldur's Gate from the outside world, a guard ushered to them clad in the heaviest metal plating Khalid had ever seen. A large sword hung at his belt; the helmet he wore, bearing the insignia of the Iron Throne masked his eyes.

"Traveller!" the guard said, halting the two in their tracks, "Could I search your packs for contraband? It is after nightfall. Nothing but dubious characters from here until morning."

Jaheira and Khalid dropped their packs to the floor and two guards rooted through them, coming up finally with nothing. The main guard, the one with the helmet, bid them a fair evening and earned them about common robbers who may prey on travellers in the dark.

Taking up their wares again, they headed towards the east section.

"They've t-tightened security," Khalid said.

"It makes you wonder if they know something which we do not," Jaheira replied thoughtfully.

After a brief walk through the streets, they eventually came across a house they recognised, just west of a seedy tavern and some horrible looking young women, all making eyes at Khalid. Khalid tried not to respond but some of the girls were quite pretty and he found himself attracted to them on a primal, instinct level. He threw a smile to one girl who was presently licking her lips with the tip of her tongue. Jaheira noticed this and pulled Khalid away from the lecherous gazes of the woman.

"Control yourself, man!" she chastised him, "We need to keep a cool head. Who knows what could be lurking in the city ready to spring us into a trap?"

Khalid laughed, "I d-didn't think that such an I-I-innocent smile would be so h-harmful to you, Jaheira."

"Well…I…" Jaheira stammered, "Let's keep moving."

Jaheira went first and knocked sharply on the wooden door. There was no answer after a few moments and she threw Khalid a cautious look, one that meant get ready for anything. Khalid set down his staff and put his drawn hand on his hilt, ready to strike when the moment occurred.

Jaheira knocked again, only to find an eerie silence greet her. With one smooth blow, she kicked the door with the flat of her foot, making it crack at the hinges and flatter slightly.

"Do you t-think you should be d-doing that?" Khalid asked as Jaheira dealt another blow to the weakening door.

"What if Gorian's hurt?" Jaheira replied, kicking the door again. "We would…only be wasting time to get the guard."

With a crash, it flattened onto the floor of the hallway, knocking over a small plant that stood just beyond the doorway. Jaheira grinned and gathered her things before stepping inside, Khalid still rooted to the spot and open mouthed outside.

"Gorian!" Jaheira called out, but there was no answer. "Gorian!"

Khalid tumbled in after her, throwing his things to the ground in a huff. "He's n-not here?"

Jaheira ignored him and moved to the bottom of the staircase, shouting Gorian's name upstairs, hearing the sound echo on the landing.

"He's got to be here," Jaheira muttered to herself, searching the downstairs before moving upstairs.

Khalid, however, searched the study area. In his experience, when Gorian wasn't in, he left a note of some sort. He looked on the desk and finally found a piece of parchment held underneath the rock paperweight. He lifted it off and read the parchment.

"Jaheira!" Khalid shouted as soon as he had read it, holding it out for her when she came down the stairs.

Jaheira rushed down, nearly tripping over her feet as she tumbled down the stairs, her feet finding themselves firmly planted on the floor after a few moments. She took the parchment from Khalid and read it over. With clear frustration and terror donning her face, she looked back up at Khalid who had the same idea.

"He's gone after her," Jaheira stated, feeling her hands shaking and her head throbbing. "The stupid man…he's gone after her!"

Khalid smiled a sad smile but picked up his pack, "Then we b-better go t-too."


	3. Benevolence

__

_**Chapter 3: Benevolence**_

The horse had moved faster than any other he had ever had the opportunity to ride on. The Ranger who had tended the stables had named the horse Ellis, a legendary Hero who could run faster than the wind itself. Gorian had never believed in such fanciful tales but he needed to meet with the others before dawn and if this horse could get him there before the sun rose, then Gorian was going to take that chance.

It had been early in the night when he had set off riding from Baldur's Gate. The many letters he had received from Elminster, the hundreds of unheeded warnings from his friends had become the fruit of his hardships. The prophecy was coming true every word of it. He couldn't rely on his own strength anymore. He had to rely on the strength of his fellows and the wisdom of his old friends.

Elminster had written just moments after Alianna had left. The letter on which he had penned about the sect in the South had been a preliminary to the letter that was to follow. Elminster had the guidance of an Oracle at his fingertips and as he wrote, the Oracle could tell him who was likely to be present when the letter arrived in Gorian's hand.

The second had said that Alianna was indeed involved in such a thing. Of course, Gorian already knew this but he did not know as to what extent Alianna was to play the puppet to the puppet master. She was a pawn in a well-crafted game of chess, built for the Gods who played such a game on their thrones in the high and mighty sky above.

Gorian spurred Ellis faster into the night, across the valleys and through the misty waters. Even as the morning fog crept up over the highway ahead, he could see nothing but what was three feet in front of him constantly, the stars holding nothing but darkness in their wake over the rolling hills. All was quiet on the roads that evening, all quiet and still, waiting for the cries of the child of Bhaal to reawaken long forgotten promises to the dark Lord.

The canter of the horse became a beat, it became a rhythm as the path before him opened up in a sea of mist and dirt. The mud from the road kicked up into his eyes, blinding him momentarily in a wave of black and brown. There hadn't been a single blade of grass to be seen for the past fourteen miles.

It was when Ellis finally needed rest when Gorian stopped. He climbed down off the white horse's mighty saddle and rested himself upon the dirt floor, his cloak seated in the mud, weighing it down heavily. He opened up the canteen on his belt and poured some into the open metal helmet, lifted it high for the horse to drink. No grass meant little food for the horse and that meant that more breaks would be needed when they reached the Grasslands to the South.

He hadn't gone about this properly, he knew he hadn't. He was armed with meagre spells from the studies that he had been lacking in. He had nothing but the dagger attached to his clothline belt and the few wizard incantation that he kept in his memory. He was defenceless against a mighty foe until he reached the others; another days ride from there.

One thing was for sure however, that Alianna and the troop that had foreseen her dismissal from the Gate were not far ahead. They would be travelling slowly so as not to harm to growing child and it would be a dire thing to disrupt the birthing process. If she were to give birth on the road, then all hope would be lost. That was what Gorian was hoping for. If he couldn't make it in time to stop the ritual from taking place then he prayed that the ritual would be put out by the birth of the son on the road, instead of one the pedestal of death awaiting the child in the dingy under caverns and the desecrated temple.

Taking a last drink from the canteen, he mounted Ellis again and rode forward into the rising moon's wake and back onto the trail of his lover.

Jaheira and Khalid hadn't had much luck finding a means of transport to the South. They had so far only managed to secure a wagon to the Badlands and maybe a cart from there forth until they reached the Ogre Mountains. From there, it would be another three days walk.

It was hopeless.

"We are never going to get anywhere at this rate!" Jaheira said, flailing her arms, "You'd think that the balance of the world would help us in such situations."

"Is J-Jaheira doubting her faith?" Khalid asked, chuckling a little at his own jab at the sturdy druid.

Jaheira adjusted herself and looked down her nose at the young Elf. She didn't think herself superior to him in any way but he was making a jab at her beliefs and that was a matter of consequence.

"Nothing shall tear down the battlements of my beliefs," she said sternly, placing her hands defiantly on her slender hips and looking around the stable area for any men who would wish their horses upon travellers.

Khalid shrugged, "When you s-speak of the balance like t-that, you sound displeased."

"I am displeased with the way in which I am treated after many years of loyal service to these lands," Jaheira replied. "I simply wish a means of transport from one place to another but despite the awkwardness of having to walk yet again, it seems we have no other option."

"As is always the n-need," Khalid laughed. "Come, if we are to set off, we must be going now."

Jaheira sighed. "I agree, maybe we can pick up a few horses on the way."

A vivid dream of being shaken woke her up. She found herself still on the pathway on the horse when he eyes opened but she couldn't place the person who was shaking her awake. There was no one, in fact, who was physically shaking her. But in her mind, the vision of the man, a handsome young man with pointed ears like herself was grasping her shoulders and calling out her name.

She felt connected with the young man somehow, like he was involved in some way with her. Her heart ached when she saw his gentle features, fashioned as though they were carved into a marble statue and so smooth with a glint of golden tinge. His eyes were a deep, flowing hazel that reminded her of the bark of a spring tree growing in the Elfwoods.

Alianna dared not to mention the dream to any of the priests that travelled along side her. There was no point in her musings with the others, they would only scoff at her, put her visions down to the simple meandering thoughts of a heavily pregnant woman. She found it tremendously disappointing how the women were still frowned upon and made the under class of the men. Even now, she was important to these priests but once her child was born, she would be nothing yet again. Just another rung on the mighty ladder to success at Bhaal's right hand side.

Still, if the vision were of some God or something else, it made no difference. She was to be glorified in a few days time, glorified beyond all measure of man or woman. She was to be more than anything any other priest could wish to become and she would relish in it all. The fame, the fortune, the wonders to behold at the throne of Bhaal, sitting on his lap and playing Goddess to the mighty Lord of Murder.

Cyrinol wouldn't be able to stand in her way. Once the power was in her hands, everything else would become secondary. She would be like the sun and the moon, bringing darkness and lights to the lives that surrounded her. She would be loved by all yet feared by all.

And it scared her far deeper than she could imagine.

Beneath the hooves of the great animal, Gorian felt the Earth shuddering at the sounds of a distant rumble from the Mountains. The rumble was a sign. A sign saying that the Temple was now open for Alianna's return into the arms of Bhaal. Bhaal was ready to reawaken in a new body with new blood to flow through her veins.

The mist and fog had cleared leaving the highway bare before his eyes. He could see the wide and vast planes that lay open before him and in the very distance, he could see the Bell Tower of the Corunc, a city famed for the great Bell Tower which rang the praises of Illmater across the sands and grasslands. It was in there, in the stony walls of the Inn, the _Slug and Lettuce_, was where he would find Elminster with the others and they would set out together to defeat the temple and it's followers.

The thought that he may have to slay his lover had crossed his mind but he had banished it to the far corners of his memory as soon as his inner voice had uttered the fateful words. He was wishing it upon himself tot even think of it. Slaying his love down in cold blood, watching the life seep out of her and over the musty ground…there was nothing in that but pain and glory for the Good of to world. The good of the world wasn't worth the death of Alianna, evil or not.

The hooves of the horse beat down upon the dirt, making its significant tracks. The bells from the watchtower rang out loudly to Gorian's ears, ringing at the sound of the black, ringing at the evil feeling that was spreading further from the south lands and toward the north. There was nothing to do but ride now, nothing to do but find he source of the evil and eradicate it from the lands.

He had to find Alianna.

Even as the dark light settled itself in the wake of the moonlight, which seemed to pass almost instantly. Jaheira had secured transport, although it had cost her an arm and a leg at the nearest stables further on than the Gate itself. They had stopped by at a nearby farm on the outskirts only to find that the farmer was extremely reluctant to release his horses to the service of an Elf.

Eventually, however, the man had allowed the horses to be taken as long as Jaheira gave up her golden armlet. She gave it over but something else went along with it. Jaheira had saved the armlet from her childhood, only being young now; she had kept the armlet even when the castle, her old home, had fallen.

But, now was a time of need, so sacrifices had to be made for the good of the people. It was only a material possession and she could procure more if it came to it. She could always get more.

Jaheira rode ahead, trying to keep and eye into the distance for any strange happenings. They crossed many rivers and found themselves tied down by the footholds of many caverns, cliffs and rocks jutting from the underground worlds of the Drow and the Under Elves. They crossed the dirt plains and followed mysterious tracks that were lay before them on the mud paths.

It was at this time that Jaheira wished she was travelling with a Ranger, tracking Gorian's horse would be easier than the blind way they were going at it now, following any mark that they saw in the dirt paths.

"Jaheira!" Khalid called from behind, spurring his horse further to reach up with his blazing partner. "Are you sure that this is the way?"

A cloud of thick dirt, a sandstorm of dust clouded their eyes and swept along the dark path. Jaheira looked behind and nodded to her friend.

"Gorian would not have travelled through the underground," Jaheira replied, easing off the reigns only slightly to allow Khalid to catch up with her horse. "And the only other way is through the dunes."

"There is no t-trail to follow through this route," Khalid said, closing his eyes as the wind swept around them. "We're r-riding blind."

Jaheira shook her head, "Blind, but not deaf, Khalid."

They listened to the wind for a moment and Khalid smiled as he heard the sounds echoing from the distance. A distance ringing of tower bells, the Bells in the Watchtower. They were nearing the town where Gorian would be meeting with the others. Soon they would be there and hopefully, by the Gods, they hadn't left yet.

"Will we make it?" Khalid asked, watching Jaheira's movements through the cloud of dust.

"If the Gods permit it," Jaheira said and spurred her horse on faster towards the evening sun in the distance and towards the sound of the bells ringing out a chime of calling.

The crashing of the Bells could be heard as Gorian tied the horse's reigns to the poles outside the tavern. Inside his friends were waiting; inside they were waiting for him to go inside and right all the wrongs that his lover was causing.

Gorian hesitated for a moment as he pulled his saddlebag down onto the grass. Was he doing the right thing? He asked himself a series of unanswerable questions. He didn't know what was going to greet them; he just knew that the path he was taking would lead him to Alianna. From there, all was blurry. What would he do once he found her? Would everything be all right again?

No, it wouldn't. Elminster had said that in his letters, there was something evil about her. The evil that had grown over the time she had spent with him, the evil that was now growing into something more sinister. She was trying to release Bhaal from his death, from the forever prison he had remained in until now. She was doing the wrong thing for the wrong reasons. She had no reason to be working for the old, dead God.

"I wouldn't worry so much," Khelben's voice said from the doors of the tavern. His black cloak flushed in the evening wind and Gorian stood before him, saddlebag slung over his white robed shoulder.

He went to enter but Khelben touched a hand to his friend's shoulder.

"Gorian," he said, holding him still, "You are young still. You have much to learn about life. Alianna…"

Gorian pushed the hand from his shoulder and put a foot of distance between them, "Alianna is no longer an issue here, is she? We are not here to rescue her…or to stop her…only to destroy the essence of Bhaal that remains in the children."

"You know much of this," Khelben replied. "But you could say that you don't know enough yet. Go, inside. Elminster is waiting."

The doors of the tavern pushed open. The smoke that had been smoked and the heavy vale of drunken ale passed through Gorian's mind. He could see all the empty mugs, the drunkards who sat in the corners drinking out of empty beer mugs. In one far corner was Elminster, dressed in his red cloak and pointed hat, smoking on his long pipe and blowing out all manner of smoke shapes.

Gorian moved forward to his old friend and before he could sit, Elminster stood and took his hand in his own, shaking it as old friends do. With a smile on his already ageing face, he bade Gorian to sit down next to him and with a flick of his wrist; the bartender had brought over a fresh mug of ale that steamed in the cold winter night on the table before him. For a moment, Gorian forgot how important the quest was and remembered how good the ale must taste and how thirsty he had become.

"It is good to see you again, Gorian," Elminster said, "I had thought that my warnings had gone unheard and unheeded."

Gorian shook his head; "I would be a fool not to hear the words."

"Then you know what must be done?" Elminster asked, taking off his hat and setting it down on the seat next to him.

Gorian nodded, "Yes, I know."

Elminster's mature face took on a new shape, one of pity but gentle understanding from an ageing man. He placed a gentle hand on Gorian's shoulder as he spoke in a hushed voice, looking every so often at Khelben, who was still standing guard like at the door to the tavern, waiting for any who would walk across his domain.

"I know how hard this must be for you, friend," Elminster said, his beard shaking a little as he spoke. "There are several times that I've had to ask myself if it was the right decision to send you the warnings. I'm getting older Gorian, older and I'd like to say that I'm getting wiser but I have yet to see proof of such an accusation."

Gorian chuckled, "Old age will never catch up with you, Elminster. You'll be young for a long while."

"Young in body, old in mind," he replied, chuckling a little himself, "There's little on the Sword Coast that I haven't seen but…"

He paused slightly and puffed on his long pipe.

"There are some things," he whispered, "That I wish I hadn't experienced. I have taken many a life in the name of the greater good, many who did not deserve such an end but were dealt it. I am asking you to preserve a power that is greater than anything you could imagine. And by doing so, I fear I am making an enemy out of you."

Gorian sighed, "You are asking me to destroy Alianna."

"I am asking you to rid the world of an old evil before it consumes it," Elminster replied, "I would not have asked if it wasn't important, you know that."

"There are many who would take down the temple," Gorian said, almost angrily, "Many who would bravely battle against Bhaal."

"And all would perish against overwhelming odds!" Elminster spat, casting his eyes to the tabletop when he spoke.

Elminster never shouted. He prided himself on keeping his head clear in times of great need and danger; he would always have a smile upon his face and breath normally when monsters turned their evil eyes toward him. But, no, he was only human no matter what anyone said. To air is human; Elminster was only following what he knew.

"Only two things are certain in this life, Gorian," Elminster breathed in a slightly ragged form, taking a deep puff on his pipe and speaking from the mouthpiece. "We will live and we will die. You have lived; some would say you've had a good life from what you came from.

"Death is another adventure all together, old friend. I cannot promise that in the coming battles you won't loose your life but I do promise you this, whatever happens, there will always be a light to guide you."

The two sat in silence for a moment as Gorian prepared himself for what could be his final hours on the mortal planes. He was beginning to think that somehow, in one way or another, Alianna's love had sent him to his own doom at the hands of her own friends. Maybe they were her friends, maybe she had never really cared about him at all; just another tool in a string going back further than Gorian could imagine.

Elminster blew a long string of smoke from his mouth; the smoke looked like a silk ribbon as it floated over to Gorian and wrapped itself around his hands before disappearing into the thick air. Gorian looked up in Elminster's light face, watching a smile play on his lips but dark circles around his forever young eyes.

"The final battle awaits us," Elminster said, taking hold of his hat and putting it on his head. He stood and held his hand out for Gorian's. "The world doesn't wait for our footsteps."

With not much land between her and the temple staircase, Alianna stole her breath and lifted up her tunic to her ankles. Carefully, she stepped up the steps, feeling the shudder that each step brought with it, the stone steps of a desecrated temple. Now the home of Bhaal; soon to be his home from the pits in the darkness.

A slow patter started, falling briskly on the stone steps, plopping from the ground then heavier. Alianna looked into the sky and saw the clear blue that palled above, the dark clouds that didn't overhang and the rain that pattered down onto the staircase like star-studded showers.

A small smile appeared on her face, a wicked smile that tempted the fates to rain upon her that day. The sly grin that spread across her beautiful face was menacing and looked to the sky without a hint of jealously for those in the warm sun. She stood underneath the blue sky; her arms wide open receiving the blessing from the Gods above. She opened her mouth to catch the raindrops that poured down, tasting the water.

A pain ripped through her, engorging her from within. She felt the pain lashing out upon her stomach, upon her abdomen and fell to the stone steps, crying out into the pale blue sky that tormented her with the blissfully cooling rain. She cried again as the hot and searing stab leapt through her and implanted itself on her belly. She arched her back against the stone as she felt something tear and then flow, out onto the steps below. Liquid, flowing with a certainty and mixing with the rain water.

The priests who had brought her to the temple raced to her side, picking her up by the under of her arms and carrying her up the rest of the steps and inside the arm and dry temple. They set her down on the cold floor while one of them rushed to tell the High Priests about the arrival. Alianna cried out again, ripping her hand through the air and grasping at the nearest object, and forcing the young priests to his knees before her, wrenching the seams of his cloak.

"Get me out of here!" she hissed, throwing him with a ferociousness that was unbecoming to her.

The young priest toppled over as she threw him and he looked up to one of his friends whom stood above Alianna's head, supporting her as she ached.

Within the moments of confusion, a shout emanated across the hall from the Great Hall, booming in a terrifying voice that echoed through the walls, shaking the very stones themselves. The priests fell back but moved forward again when Cyrinol marched up.

"Take her up to the pedestal, you fools!" Cyrinol yelled, grabbing one of the young priests by his lapels and wrenching him to the ground before him. "You! Tell me what happened!"

The young priest stammered, "She was…coming to the temple…sire…and…"

"Enough!" Cyrinol said, waving his hand in dismissal to the young priest who got to his feet and tore out of the hall.

The other priests took it upon themselves to raise Alianna up on their shoulders and carry her through to the Great Hall, which was substituting for the Ritual Room. They lay her down on the stone tablet in front of the Bhaal idol. A large pedestal lay beside her; golden in its surface and a large iron framing formed the rest. It was the sacrificing pedestal, on which her baby would be slain as soon as he was born.

Alianna's eyes flew to the back of her head and she felt like she was going to be sick, she bolted up into a sitting position and made the move to vomit all over the young priest who was with them before.

However, Cyrinol rushed to her side and lay her back down again. With a comforting voice, unlike Cyrinol's usual hiss, he whispered kind words to her as she lay looking up at the ceiling. She noticed that on the ceiling, there was a depiction of a great battle, Helm at one side and Torm at another. Their swords were clashing in a ring of fire and furry, both at their knees to each other's prowess.

"Be still, Alianna," Cyrinol whispered, "The priests are bringing towels and water. There is time…do not worry."

"I…am not…worried," Alianna spat, holding her belly as another pain seared across her abdomen. "I merely…I want rid of this child!"

Cyrinol nodded, "All in good time, my priestess, all in good time."

Another pain cut across and she reached out for a hand in the darkness as her eyes flew shut. She grabbed hold of Cyrinol's hand, which he grasped back just as hard, letting her clench the life out of it, as she contracted. Her hand grew warm as she clenched his hand again, and Cyrinol formed his hand into a fist around hers, grasping and holding, mustering all the pain that he could so that she didn't have to bear anymore than she had to.

"Please, priestess," he said as she clenched again, "Push out the baby, push him out."

"I…I am trying!" Alianna screeched, hurling their clenched fists backward onto the stone slab, hitting Cyrinol's knuckles hard off the stone.

He bit his lip as his knuckles crunched and he jerked his hand back, caressing and nurturing them with his other. He whispered a healing spell into his hands and felt the knuckles coming back together, the bone re-growing as the light flowed over his hands like water.

Soon, the child would be born; it was only a matter of time. Soon, he would be the High Priest to Bhaal's hell and furry, they would rule the planes together. He would be Lord of some planes and others would be given to Alianna, his wife, his mistress who would rule alongside him, bearing his children.

He reached out for her clenched fist again and let the pain scorch through him as it ripped through her body. He watched from Alianna's side as the priests and clerics moved in to take care of the birthing process, armed with tongs, towels, water and other instruments. One was carrying herbs in a small bag, dispensing them on the stone tablet and smashing them up with a pestle.

Very soon now.

It was only as Cyrinol heard the soft cry of a newborn baby and heard the sighs of the clerics that he knew it was time. He looked over the top of the cloths and discovered the child in the arms of the head cleric, being cuddled and nurtured as if it were to serve a life of purpose. Cyrinol grinned however, a sly grin that lit up his whole handsome face, disguising his true intentions towards the child.

Alianna took the child up in her arms, forgetting about the pain but just holding the infant, cleaning him with one of the towels and brushing back his dark hair. Cyrinol noticed that the infant had small ears than a true Elf but they were slightly pointed, like those of a halfling. The baby opened his eyes to reveal the green eyes, those green piercing eyes of his mother's…the eyes that looked like a sunset upon an Elven grove…

Cyrinol shook himself out of his dilutions however, and moved away from the proud new mother, making his way to the golden pedestal, bringing out the knife and other tools, preparing for the inevitable.


	4. Mine Enemy Is Myself

_**Chapter 3: Mine Enemy Is Myself**_

They had arrived outside the temple, looking up at the looming abandoned towers staring down at them from their seats in the sky. Huge jutting spears from the temple, cascading down blackness from their stone stature.

Gorian felt a tug in his stomach; a wrench that meant that she was close by. It was a warning signal, a sign of things to come. Somehow, just somehow, he knew that if he survived tonight, if he managed to get free from the clutches of the dead Lord of Murder, he would be a changed man. Maybe for the better, maybe not. He couldn't decide.

Khelben ran in front, his black cloak swirling around him like a mist, a fog that covered his body from the world outside. His staff in his hand guarded closely by the figurine, which sat on top, watching out into the distance for a sign of an enemy, one more to kill.

"This way!" he yelled back, pointing up ahead, the stone steps and up to the large wooden door. He sprinted on ahead, Elminster and Gorian climbed the stone steps with ease, stopping once in a while to watch the evening birds flutter from their nests inside the towers, the flapping of their wings making a noise on the win as they flew away, leaving the desecrated church, leaving the massacre that was to follow.

Gorian closed his eyes as they reached the top. The familiar tugging in the small of his stomach, the likeness of a dagger being pushed through his willing flesh. He felt the sharp pain and opened his eyes, clutching a hand at his stomach and finding nothing but his own clothes, no dagger, no pain.

"Come," Elminster said with comfort echoing in his voice, comfort that perhaps was intended not to be heard by any other. He held his hand out to Gorian, showing him that, like Gorian, he was anticipating the foreboding dangers though not with excitement.

"I don't think that knocking is going to help," Khelben joked as they reached the doors. He pushed it with his hands, but they were locked. "I don't think they know…how much…this doesn't help us."

Elminster gave a gruff laugh, "They must do, Blackstaff. Is there another way inside?"

"I'm not up to climbing the towers so…" Khelben replied, taking a step back and looking around for another entrance.

Gorian tapped the door with the end of his staff, hearing the knock that resounded. With a creak, the door pushed open slightly, revealing the inner stones on the floor. The tiles of Helm lying on the floor, paving the entrance in an un-welcoming way.

"I never would have thought of that," Khelben said, taking up the front and going inside first.

Elminster stepped inside; holding his hat steadily on his head as he stepped over the large wooden block that stood in the doorway. Gorian followed, bringing in his and Elminster's staves handed the latter to its master as he entered the building.

Gorian stood for a moment in the entrance hall, admiring the tiles and the architecture of the building, feeling the good feelings that flowed from the Helm statues, the bad feelings that emanated from the great hall and the sheer depth of the devotion that was once found in the halls.

Elminster however, clenched his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. His energy was drawing in on himself, a ball of energy that could rip a hole in the Earth's surface, a power so terrible and terrifying that Khelben and Gorian seemed to cower before it's might, backing up slightly before the man.

Then somebody said, "They have already started."

The chamber felt flooded with magic, from the stones to the very brim of the cavern, tipped with a strange glow to the whole feel. Alianna tried to reach out to the screaming child but her hands were pushed away each time she tried. She tried to call out to the screaming baby but nothing left her mouth, no voice within to scream.

Alianna felt her hands become tied behind her, the ripping pain, which seeped through her loins, was drowning out the pain of the ropes cutting and binding her hands. There was no speech or sound, just the distant rumble of magic coming ever closer. The torrent of darkness coming closer with each spell cast, with each enchantment called upon…there was no hope for them to survive.

Cyrinol's voice rang out into the Hall, drowning out all other sound. The spell was beginning, she could hear the words read aloud in a deep voice, vocalising each decibel and syllable, sweeping through each sentence with ease.

No rush of wind, but light flooded into the Hall. The screams of the other children could be heard, some calling out for their parents, others for their Gods. Tears were heard but Alianna could do nothing but watch as Cyrinol brought the knife down once upon the book that he read from and blood curdled from the book as if it were alive itself.

It seemed less likely each beat of the hooves that Jaheira and Khalid were going to make it on time. They tried to stay side by side and take the short paths that cut deep into the Forrest floor to stay away from the roads, making the journey safer. If some of Bhaal's men would see them on the road, all would be lost. Gorian had explained it all in his note.

Jaheira tried to think about it all. She couldn't understand why the Harpers hadn't decided to inform the others about it, they would all be together on it and face the foe, as they should, as a band like the olden days. Elminster was for preserving the balance but sometimes his view of balance was rather off the leader's views. Gorian and Khelben would follow Elminster to the ends of Faerun if he asked them too, and gave them sound reason.

But this involved Alianna.

Gorian would have left despite Elminster's letter; he would certainly have taken off after her as soon as her horse's hooves beat down on the path outside Baldur's Gate. He wasn't stupid and he wasn't naïve. He knew what had been going on, but he refused to believe it. Jaheira didn't want to believe what Alianna had tried to bring too pass; she didn't want to acknowledge that Gorian had been wrong, that they all had been wrong.

That the world was once again in mortal danger.

And it was the mortals who had to prevent it.

"To help and understand, but not to kill…the fear of death ever present within our hearts…speak to us, Grand Lord of Murder," Cyrinol chanted his rhythmic pattern over and over again, each time, swaying the blooded knife back and forth.

The energies in the room had spiked. There was a distant rumble of thunder, proceeding the chant again. She was frightened. The knife hadn't settled any of her fears, or even quelled the aching desire within her body to release herself from her bound prison and rush to the aid of her new-born son. She felt the room cascade around her, but she couldn't see the shadows play on the firewalls. The blindfold draped across her eyes and the foul stench of sulphur made her feel ill and she wretched onto the bier.

Cyrinol didn't stop when he saw Alianna on the bier; he didn't pause for breath or stop his chanting. He was determined to be on the right hand throne of Bhaal and by the Gods he would have if he could. His was a solid determination stronger than any of his fellows. Alianna knew that Cyrinol would stop at nothing to get her, to get the Throne of Bhaal and the kill the sons of the dead God.

The aids came to Alianna's side quickly as she heard footsteps echoing through the musty halls. Footsteps of boots sewn with iron, of metal armour laced with the finest silk and satin, the gold that was stitched around the wearer's necklace and the strong rapture.

At once, strong fingers sharpened with long nails grasped hold of her face and dug into her skin. Her cheek pressed into the palm of the hand.

"Such a pathetic creature," said the voice of a woman.

Alianna felt her face released from the grip, but the skin that had been pierced still stung as if by venom or poison. The boots clicked to Cyrinol's chants and walked to him, stopping his chants momentarily.

"Why keep her alive?" the voice said. "She is of no use, we have the child. Burn the wench on the bier."

Cyrinol tutted, Alianna could picture Cyrinol shaking his finger at the woman.

"Amelyssan, my dear," Cyrinol said, shaking his head. "There is a time for such things. This is not one of them. Either help me with the ritual or get out of my hall. There is no place for you here if you do not wish to help."

One stomp of the perfectly crafted boots, Alianna felt the floor rumble to the bier. Amelyssan whispered something that she could not hear from the bier but whatever it was Cyrinol had started to chant again and had begun to walk around the bier, swinging his cup of blood wine.

Khelben had run up front, his staff in his hand ready for combat at every turn. Elminster and Gorian had taken up the rear and were trying to open their minds and their ears to the sensations within the temple. All were new and mostly thrilling but some…some were frightening. Demons danced off the walls and through the solid pines of bookcases, shelves, doors and tapestries that lined the walls of the corridors.

Elminster walked along in silence, opening his ears to the slightest sound or moan of the old temple. Gorian tried to think through the noise within his mind, for although it was quiet on the outside, the noise was deafening within. He could barely think when he closed his eyes and saw the visions that played themselves out before him, taking him deeper and deeper into the mind of evil.

Gorian was shook on the shoulder by Elminster, shaking him awake.

"You must keep on top of this," he said, walking ahead again. "We can't afford to lose you."

But it didn't help. The voices got louder and louder until Gorian fell to the floor, gasping for breath, clutching onto his ears for not only his sanity, but dear life itself. Elminster stopped and rushed back to his friend but Khelben was too far ahead to call back. If he would be separated, if they all were separated, they wouldn't defeat the likes of Cyrinol and Amelyssan, needless to say Alianna if she was indeed turned by the birth.

"Come on, Gorian," Elminster whispered urgently, looking ahead to spot Khelben. "Fight them, boy! Don't let the darkness take you asunder!"

"I…I can't!" Gorian yelled, grasping onto Elminster for support but falling back down again when the voices increased.

"Go!"

A mysterious voice from the darkness and Elminster thrust out his staff, charged with thunder if any should come close.

He watched the shadows dissipate over two people, Jaheira and Khalid, stood in the darkness but coming towards them. Jaheira shouted and waved to them, to Elminster to go and hurry as fast as possible. Khalid rushed to Gorian's side, kneeling down on the floor and trying hard to lift him to his feet and steady his balance as firm as possible.

"Go!" Jaheira shouted to Elminster. "We will bring him, just go!"

Gorian tried to lift himself up off the ground and managed to sit up as Jaheira held her healing hands over him.

"I swear," she mumbled. Carefully she hit Gorian on his shoulder to make him roll over as Khalid held him in place.

"H-He looks fine, Jaheira," Khalid said.

Jaheira shook her head; "It's this place. He should be fine if we get moving, his wounds are healed."

"But he didn't have any," Khalid said confused.

"Not ones that are visible," Jaheira replied, picking Gorian up off the floor and giving him his fallen staff.

Amelyssan leant on the edge of the bier, surveying the woman who gave birth to the strongest of Bhaal's children. Was this the woman who was the prophesied one? She was barely an ounce of a woman with a trickle of spirit in her weak body. Why did Bhaal choose her?

There were many unanswered questions in the Hall. The children who were more than a day old were standing with their backs to the ritual, crying into the walls and yet one stood firm, his eyes glistening with tears but his face and demeanour not as fragile as the others. He looked upon the ritual with eyes of fire, watching the knife cut and slice into the book of blood, ripping through the pages. This one child liked the carnage.

Amelyssan had a thought in that fatal atmosphere. She had heard of the prophecy, she had read the prophecy of Alaundo and understood it. She knew that the prophecy spoke of two children who would come to battle on the Earth, who would destroy one another eventually, giving into the desires of their father's blood as it consumed them from inside.

Could this be one of the chosen two?

Standing, she walked to the small boy and stood towering above his frail form. His eyes darted to hers and they didn't look at her…they saw through her. Even though the child was barely a third of her height and stature, the child frightened her to say the least. She looked into the hollow depths of his eyes and cast her eyes over his taunt skin, darkened by the low light inside the hall. Amelyssan bent down on one knee to be eye to eye with the boy.

"Your name," she commanded to the boy.

The boy barely gave a shrug, but looked her dead in the eye with a confidence Amelyssan had never seen before. He took a deep breath and sighed his name; "Koveras."

"Koveras?" Amelyssan asked, committing the name to memory. "You do know that you are special, don't you, Koveras?"

Koveras nodded, casting his eyes back to the carnage and Alianna's screams as the knife cut into her skin, opening the flesh of her forearm and holding it over the bleeding book. The boy pointed to the baby lying on the bier, his eyes widening in happiness as Cyrinol slashed the blade over the baby's forefinger.

"Eh si ym rehtorb," Koveras stated, pointing at the boy.

Amelyssan smiled; a boy who spoke backwards. A trait that he must've learnt from the priests as they speak in code so as not to alarm the other children. This one must have learnt…good survival techniques from one so young.

"He is," Amelyssan replied.

"Tub ew era ton fo eht emas rehtom," he said, scratching the side of his leg.

"No," Amelyssan grinned maliciously, "But you have the same father, our Lord of Murder."

The child's eyes became wide with wonder as he turned his vision back to Amelyssan's. A sparkle in his bright eyes was all Amelyssan needed to know which of the two this child was. His need and lust for carnage didn't leave much room for option at this stage. This one was the starter; he was the initiator.

An ear-splitting scream echoed around the room and Amelyssan covered her ears as she turned her head. The screamer was Alianna, watching Cyrinol cut her baby and taking blood from the child. Alianna tried to reach for the baby but Amelyssan ran over, forgetting about Koveras and his power, dragging Alianna back to the bier and settling her into the shackles.

"Get her down!" Cyrinol shouted, holding the bloody knife in his hand, letting the blood freely drip onto the flagged floor.

"I'll kill the wench in a moment!" Amelyssan threatened, holding Alianna down as the priests tried to shackle her to the stone bier. She struggled though and Amelyssan found herself having to restrain arms and legs from flailing.

"You will do no such thing!" Cyrinol screamed, but Amelyssan's hands were already reaching for Alianna's throat.

Forgetting the ritual all together, Cyrinol dropped the dagger on the floor and wrestled Amelyssan's hands away from Alianna's neck. He jostled with the witch, scratching her hands to ribbons with his nails, burning her wrists with his magic. Amelyssan refused to let go and throttled Alianna, cutting her nails deep into the soft flesh. Alianna let out a cry and Cyrinol took the dagger from the floor.

Trying as he could, he couldn't get Alianna free of Amelyssan's death grip so he slashed Amelyssan across the chest with the blooded dagger. Not realising his fatal mistake, Amelyssan pressed her hand to the wound and gasped. She gasped for air as the blood seeped through her breastplate and onto the floor where she was knelt, watching the pool of blood surround her on the flagged floor.

"You fool!" Amelyssan shouted, standing up and wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth. "You idiotic human! Do you not understand the power of the baby's blood?"

Cyrinol looked down at the dagger and then again at the screaming baby. He watched the cuts on the child's arms and legs heal quickly and grow new skin. He looked back at Amelyssan who was standing tall, the blood drying quickly and the skin re-growing beneath her breastplate.

"Immortal juices," Cyrinol said to himself.


End file.
